Let Go
by Ducky3
Summary: Haruka contemplates about her past . . . My spin on her life. Set during the S season.


Author's notes: The original version of this fanfic is   
posted on A Sailor Moon Romance and H&M Fanfic Center. This   
version is quite edited with the ending a bit different.   
  
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Author's notes [2000]: Set somewhere in S. A look into   
Haruka's past.   
  
Let Go  
By Ducky  
Email: jessiegb@aol.com  
  
  
  
It was cold.  
  
Emerald eyes peered out from under dark blonde bangs tousled   
by the frozen wind. Chilled lips were pressed together in a   
firm line, jaw set in hardened stone. No notice was taken   
of the people that swarmed around her, walking briskly as if   
to escape from the inevitable cold that seeped into their   
jackets and scarves and numbed their legs and feet. Her   
slow, deliberate pace never wavered, never stopped. Soft   
white flakes began to fall from the clouded sky, causing   
gasps to escape from the mouths of those walking underneath.   
The tall blonde took no notice of this new development, this   
sudden cause for joy.  
  
  
The wind sighed.  
  
  
"Papa?"  
  
"Yes, child?"  
  
"Is she going to get better?"  
  
  
Hesitation.  
  
  
  
"Is she?"  
  
Fear.  
  
  
"Of course, child. Your mama will be just fine."  
  
Reassurance.  
  
  
"Papa?"  
  
"Yes, little one?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Why are you crying?"  
  
  
The snow swirled around her, holding her in its cold embrace.   
A layer of snow had formed on the ground, masking it with   
its pureness. It piled upon her shoulders, her head, the   
frost contrasting starkly with the dark clothes she wore.   
Her tall form was as still as the stones that protruded from   
the snow-covered ground, blank marble that sat staring into   
the trees that surrounded the clearing, donning the snow   
like thick capes. Behind her and beyond the tangle of trees   
was the ocean, noiseless from this distance, the waves   
crashing mercilessly against the rocks. The blue depths   
extending out into the horizon, meeting the pale, gray sky   
at the edge of the world.   
  
She faced the row of lifeless marble, inscriptions written   
into the black stones like whispers in the dark. Short and   
brief, telling all, yet telling absolutely nothing. She   
could put faces to the names and recite the years and ages   
with calm, emotionless precision. But they were all much   
more than that. Much more.  
  
This was her family.  
  
A freezing blast shocked her senses. The wind stung at her   
face, the pain taking her out of the memories that   
threatened to drown her, to pull her down.   
  
She stood firm, accepting the pain unflinchingly. This was   
a place for pain. It was sad, the way she could only stand   
and look at the headstones and not feel any burning in her   
eyes caused by tears. Only the emptiness that had filled   
her since the beginning of her existence on this planet.   
  
  
" - ruthless - "  
  
" - merciless - "  
  
" - never shows any remorse for having hurt another - "  
  
" - refuses any medical attention or medication for her  
injuries -"  
  
  
That's what the instructors had said. She had gone from   
teacher to teacher, picking up bits and pieces of different   
types of martial arts in every studio. She never was able   
to stay more than several classes. They never allowed her   
to. But she managed to learn something from each place and   
slowly developed her own style, harsh and unforgiving,   
leaving her a feared combatant amongst the numerous schools   
she had gone to. Time and time again, she had been kicked   
out of school after school because of a student that would   
foolishly rouse her temper. She fought because those small   
insults, those stupid people were things she could fight,   
things that she could defeat.  
  
Because the one thing she really wanted to defeat was   
something she couldn't fight at all.   
  
  
"It's a rare disease that runs through the DNA of the  
females of your wife's family. That's why her female   
relatives all died so young. After the age of 13   
their health begins to fail. It's incredible that   
your wife has survived this long."  
  
  
"So, she's literally dying."  
  
A question. Holding desperately to one last strand of   
hope . . .  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
Eyes closed painfully, and a shudder went through the   
stricken man.  
  
"And our daughter?"  
  
  
The briefest of pauses.  
  
  
"She will die young as well."  
  
  
But they had been wrong.   
  
Her father had insisted on their being sure, so they had put   
her through test after test. Again and again, the results   
showed that her DNA lacked the disease that had ended the   
lives of her female ancestors at such young ages. As her   
mother breathed her last, it was revealed that she would   
live. She did not have the disease. She never would have   
the disease.   
  
The doctors were puzzled as to how the disease had come into   
existence in the first place and now even more confused as   
to why she, out of all the others, had no trace of the   
disease in her DNA. What was it that made her so special?   
It wasn't until later that she realized the answer.  
  
It was because she had been destined to save the world.   
  
When she had accepted her destiny, when she had touched the   
henshin pen and called forth the power of Uranus that had   
been hidden deep in her subconscious, she discovered the   
reason why she had been cleansed of the disease. Her   
birthright as Sailor Uranus had purged her body of all   
life-threatening ailments and prohibiting any unnatural   
escape from her destiny. Making it so that she would be   
able to live to fulfill the missions that would be given   
to her.   
  
She, of all the other women that had died, had been allowed   
to live, had been given the right to exist, because of a   
destiny that called for her to protect a world that had   
cursed her and never cared.   
  
Out of all that could have been chosen, she had been given   
that right.  
  
  
Out of all that those that had died, Death had passed over   
her.   
  
She felt unworthy. She didn't deserve to live. She had   
done so much - too much - in her life to ever be granted   
such a blessing. So she looked upon this as her curse.   
This would be her cross. Existing. To make up for her   
ancestors' and her mother's death, her soul became that of   
a tortured warrior that had held the lives of innocent   
people in her hands and was willing to kill them with no   
hesitation - cold and calculating, hard and unwilling to   
give in to her feelings.   
  
But it wasn't enough. She even promised to give up the   
life of the one she loved in order for herself to live and   
carry out a damned mission to save the world.   
  
But none of it was enough.   
  
None of it could bring redemption.   
  
None of it could take away the memories.  
  
  
"Papa? Where are you papa?"  
  
'Too many people . . . who are all of you? You   
shouldn't be here . . . papa will be very angry  
when he comes . . .'   
  
"Papa?"  
  
'What's everyone looking at? . . . That's papa -   
but he's so white . . . they're covering him up   
. . . why doesn't he open his eyes . . ?'  
  
"Papa . . . ?"  
  
  
"Get this kid out of here! Don't let her see her father   
like this!"  
  
'Papa.'   
  
  
Her father had joined his wife in death shortly after, not   
giving any thought to the little girl that he left behind.   
The lost little girl that was a medical mystery to the   
doctors, a disobedient nuisance to her guardians, and had   
become the uncompassionate being that stood before his   
grave now. She could hear their voices in the wind, the   
voices that had been calling to her for such along time.   
  
The story of her life, the story of her twisted life hung   
before her eyes. The wind murmured in her ears. Let go, a   
voice whispered. A voice that she wanted to recognize, a   
voice she was supposed to know . . .  
  
Live, Haruka.   
  
'Mama?!?'  
  
I love you, we all do. We would never try to punish you.   
  
'Mama.'  
  
Let go of us, Haruka. There's someone who loves you so   
much, who loves you as we do.   
  
'Michiru.'  
  
Go back to her. We are gone from your life - please, don't   
try to bring us back to somewhere we don't belong, where   
not even I belong anymore.  
  
'I miss you so much . . .'  
  
I know. I miss you too. But you must let go, let go of   
all of us, let go of me. We blame you for nothing. Fate   
is both savior and destroyer and It chooses who shall   
live and who shall die through reasons that we may never   
understand. But know this - you will never be alone. You   
have Michiru there with you, and you have us watching over   
you.  
  
'Mama.'  
  
  
The wind was still. Green eyes closed, and slowly, one by   
one, she let go of the memories. The past slipped away, the   
shroud that had pulled over her eyes now pushed back,   
revealing the present and the future that she had been   
ignoring. She felt so . . . tired. Tired of being lost,   
tired of fighting, tired of being angry, tired . . . of   
living in the past.   
  
The past was such a cold place. It was done, over with, and   
it could never be changed. They were dead. She wasn't.   
  
Things would be different. She wasn't the same lost little   
girl that had seen her father shot in the head by his own   
hands. She wasn't the same heartless juvenile that was   
juggled from foster home to foster home. She wasn't the   
same teenager that had accepted her destiny. And   
undoubtedly, she wasn't the same person who had walked into   
the clearing. She was Tenoh Haruka. Sailor Uranus, whether   
she liked it or not. Last living descendent of the Tenoh   
and Kaze family. And what would become of her would not   
dependent on what she had been and what had been done.   
  
That was all in the past. If one lived in the past, their   
life was nothing but a memory.   
  
  
Enough of her life had become a memory.  
  
  
It was about time for her to enter reality.  
  
  
Silently, she turned around and walked out of the clearing,   
into the shadows of the snow-laden trees, small snowflakes   
gently falling upon the red roses placed carefully at the   
foot of each of the headstones.  
  
  
The door opened and closed quietly.  
  
Michiru appeared before her, watching her, trying to read   
her emotions. "You went there again." Soft, concerned.  
  
She shook the snow off from her heavy coat. "Yes," she   
finally answered. She slipped her boots off. A gentle   
but firm hand stilled her actions. She looked up into the   
worried blue eyes that had helped her and stood by her   
when the memories overwhelmed her, cared for her even   
though she refused to tell her what was wrong, loved her   
. . . loved her in spite of everything . . . She held her   
then, tightly, crying softly, thankfully and happily   
welcoming reality.  
  
  
  
And the wind smiled.  
  
  
  
  
  
Ducky  
  
August 17, 2000 - August 18, 2000  
  
[Edited: April 17, 2001]  



End file.
